


Insults, Injuries and Insensibilities

by RedactedReader



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Hurt Loki (Marvel), active violence against minor, not graphic violence but warning of it stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedactedReader/pseuds/RedactedReader
Summary: “Mother,” Thor’s mighty voice beamed through the hall. He stepped forward, engulfing his mother in his much larger form. “It is good to see you. How does father fare.”“He is alright,” Frigga replied. “Tell me, where is your brother? Is he returning soon as well?”The laughter in the room faded. Thor looked his mother over, searching for a sign of explanation. “Loki returned home the first night.”What remained of Frigga’s smile vanished completely. “He did not."---Thor's ego blinded him as it often did. And not for the first time, Loki is the one to suffer the consequences of those mistakes.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	Insults, Injuries and Insensibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo: Broken Limb
> 
> Looking to branch out a little recently into fandoms I’m not as comfortable writing in. 
> 
> Loki aged an equivalent of sixteen. Thor aged around nineteen.

“A victory my friends.” Goblets of mead where slammed together, spilling their liquor down the arms of the Warriors. A choir of full bellied laughter echoed through the hall, reverberating off the boars head displays and array of barmaids pouring more and more libations for the patrons. The mead was sweet on their lips, the roasted pork salty on their tongues and merriment in their young hearts. “They will be singing ballets of our trumpets for thousands of years to come.” 

A snort graced from Thor’s elbow. He looked down from where he stood, goblet of mead still raised in trumpet. His brother was looking down, turning the page in some yellow stained tomb, half nibbling at the salted duck and caramelized potatoes, his wine untouched. There was a single bruise along his jawbone. Thor set his goblet down, leveling his haze onto his brother. “Have you something to say, Loki?”

“Nothing to say brother.” Loki didn’t even look up from his book. Thor rested his hand beside Loki’s book, leaning down till he was a breath over his brother’s head.

“Thor,” Hogun’s voice was passive as he watched the tension boil, “why soil the victory on this?”

“I’m not the one spoiling it.” Thor flashed a bright grin before looking back at his brother. “You clearly have something to say. You’ve never tempted our tongue before. So say what you wish.”

Volstagg moved to flag down a barmaid. “How about another round of drinks?”

“I could go for another,” Fandral added, downing the last of his goblet. 

Loki shifted his gaze, letting a heavy sigh escape his lips. “It just seems a bit over celebratory for such a minor scuffle. It was a dozen men, none of which offered any challenge. It was unnecessary.” 

“It was to avenge a slight of honor.” Thor’s jaw tightened.

Loki finally looked up, his gaze tight. “A slight of honor? He made a minor insult on your manhood and you broke his jaw. And his leg. And assaulted every man with him. A man died today.”

Thor leaned back, chuckling deeply. His hand rested on the rim of his brother’s drink. “I’m not surprised you wouldn’t understand. He insulted you as well, yet you have no care to defend yourself on the matter. You never did learn how to stand up for yourself. Never did understand what it meant to be a proper warrior. A proper man. Always too reliant on your tricks and magic. Maybe father was right, you are too young to be out with us.”

Thor’s hand pushed forward, slipping the deep red wine of Loki’s cup. The liquor flowed forward, splattering over the crisp pages of Loki’s text. It stained the yellowed pages quickly, the intricately inked text becoming lost. Loki leap to his feet, pulling the text from the puddle. He ran a glowing hand over it, doing his best to resolve the damage. His emerald gaze traveled his brother, glare burning deep. “What is wrong with you? Do you know how old this text is? I borrowed it on the reassurance it would be returned in the same immaculate manner I received it.” 

A shrug shifted Thor’s armor as he retook his place at the table. He picked his goblet up, offering it in a salute to his brother. “Than maybe you shouldn’t have brought a book on our adventure.”

Loki merely stood there, jaw solid and gaze burning. The others at the table sat silently, hiding their expressions behind their own goblets. A snicker escaped from Fandral’s lips despite his best attempts. Loki nodded, gathering up his notes and bag, and leveled them a deep stare. “I will be returning on my own tonight. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

With that, the young sorcerer stormed from the dinning hall, throwing the door open with a flick of a glowing hand. The heavy door splintered with the force Loki’s magic pulled to close it behind him. The place shook with the force of his exit. It took a moment before the atmosphere in the hall returned to one of merriment. 

“Well, lets not let the celebration end!” Thor lifted the goblet, motioning for another round of cheers. The other four shared a quick glance, before clinking their mugs as well. A bit of the cheer had escaped from their atmosphere. “Come now, guys. Let’s not let Loki’s childishness dampen our night. We still have two more days before we must return. And a hunt tomorrow morning. Let us enjoy ourselves.”

“Our Prince is right!” Volstagg took a swig of his mead to wash down the mouth full of meat in his teeth. “Let us not let such things get us down. It is our weekend after all.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sif clanked her goblet against theirs. The grin on her face was bright. “Next time Thor, maybe leave your brother at home.” 

The remainder of their adventurous weekend passed with just as much fanfare and celebration as that first night. Their hunt the next morning was a success, rendering them the scales of a den full of lindworms, the fur of several wild bores, and a barrel full of kraken ink; which Thor sent back to his father. They had drunk themselves into a stupor that night, and destroyed a bar in their fight with some elves. The remainder had been spent wooing barmaids and settling fights with little resistance. 

When the weekend ended, Thor still had the sweet scent of mead on his lips as the beam of the Bi Frost picked them up, and brought them home to the Observatory. Heimdall gave them a nod upon their return, a slight smile to his lips. “Welcome home, my prince.”

Mother awaited them. She stood there, hands clasped together and a nervous smile on her lips. She had seen her eldest off on many adventures before, but this return was different. It was the first she had sent her youngest off; not the first he had wandered from the world however. Her gaze moved around the new arrivals, looking for the familiar mop of black hair.

“Mother,” Thor’s mighty voice beamed through the hall. He stepped forward, engulfing his mother in his much larger form. “It is good to see you. How does father fare.”

“He is alright,” Frigga replied. “Tell me, where is your brother? Is he returning soon as well?”

The laughter in the room faded. Thor looked his mother over, searching for a sign of explanation. “Loki returned home the first night.”  
What remained of Frigga’s smile vanished completely. “He did not. Your brother left with you and it is the last I have seen of him. Heimdall!”

“I’m sure he’s alright mother,” Thor followed behind his mother as she crossed the room. “Loki is prone to disappear from time to time. Just a few months ago he disappeared for a whole week.”

Frigga waved off his lack of worry. “Where he was hold up in the back of the library. Any time he disappears, he has always informed me a head of time a general idea of where he was going. He would not worry me unnecessarily. Heimdall, do you see him?”

Heimdall’s gaze shifted onto Frigga. “I do not my Queen. The last I saw him was when the boys left for their adventure.”

“You haven’t seen them in days? Why did you not inform me.”

“Loki has slipped from my sight from time to time before. He is learning this new trick quite faster than expected. You yourself said he has been slipping from your own sight. I had no cause to worry as I had a feeling he would most certainly be practicing while off world. Him and Prince Thor were together, and I saw nothing of danger to note on their outing to cause worry.”

Frigga looked over the five warriors. “When was the last time you saw Loki?” 

“The first night,” Hogun spoke up after a few moments of silence. “We were at a bar, celebrating a victorious scuffle.”

“Was he drinking?”

It was Sif who answered. “No. We got him a goblet of wine, figured he’d earned it, but I don’t think he even drank any of it.” 

“Where the rest of you drinking? I can smell alcohol on your breath, Thor.”

Thor let a breath pass heavy through his lips. “I am of age to drink, mother. What does it matter that we were drinking?”

Frigga’s gaze narrowed “You were supposed to be watching your brother. I specifically asked you to keep an eye on him. How were you supposed to do that if you were drunk? What happened at the bar? Where did you all go after?”

Again an uncomfortable silence graced them. Sif stepped forward, sharing a glance with the others. “Loki left early. There was an argu…. An argument. He stormed out saying he was going home that night. To not wait for him. We figured he did so.”

Frigga stepped towards Thor, her gaze tight. “What was the argument about?”

“What does it matter, mother?”

“It matters because your brother is missing, Thor! He’s missing and it was your responsibility to keep track of him.”  
Thor’s shoulder’s dropped slightly. “I’m sorry, mother. I truly thought he was heading home. Loki is always so temperamental and dramatic. I didn’t think anything from his storm out.”

“Heimdall,” Frigga turned away from her son. “Keep look for him. I will inform the All- Father of what is going on, and I will scry for him as well. I’ve yet to figure out quite how he hides himself, but I know my son’s magic. I will find him.”

Frigga made her way back towards the city. Thor stood in the Observatory, gaze trailing over his friends and fellow warriors.

ooooo

Darkness tinted Loki’s vision. The only light in the cramped little space shone from the deep yellow runes carved into his skin. Their intricately swirled markings cast soft shadows over his body, that he knew would be covered in bruises and blood. He shifted his arm, casting the glow over the chains pinched against his wrists. They were secured tight, chained above his head to a spike in the wall. Dark runes were carved into that steel as well, further binding him. 

Loki rested his head back, grimacing as the slime on the wall soaked into his hair. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he imagined it had to have been at least over a day. He’d been dragged into the cell, cuffed to the wall after having been brutally beaten and branded. Each movement sent rickets of pain coursing through his body. He figured pretty early his leg was broken. Shoulder and each of his fingers broken as well. They’d done a number on him, and it wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, had it not been for the runes in his skin.

He’d lost access to his magic before. A pretty rough sickness nearly eighty years ago had forced his mother to temporarily cut off his connection to his magic after collapsing an entire second story balcony with one misplaced sneeze. But this was different. This left him hallow. The runes burned against his skin any time he attempted to connect with his seider, 

The door to the cell was thrown open. Light cast through the room as a lantern on the wall filled with flames, finally lighting Loki’s gaze. He took a second to take in his own appearance – his clothes in dirty tatters, his body laced with deep black bruises, and the bone of his leg protruding from his leg – before clanging at his captors. 

Three elves stood in the doorway, each sporting hunting garments and sporting a weapon of their own. The first, a tall elf with a curled red beard and short cut hair, stalked towards the prisoner sitting on the ground. He cast a sick smirk at Loki, patting a heavy hand just below where the bone stuck from the boy’s leg. “You’re holding up quite well child. I’ve had grown men broken by this time.” 

Loki narrowed his gaze, taking in the elf before him. He smirked despite the pain enveloping from his leg. “Oh please. You think I’m scared of you?”

The elf ran his hand along Loki’s bruised face. “I’ve had you at my mercy for days now. I’ve broken your bones. I’m stolen your magic. I’ve laid my hands on you and you have no manner to refuse. Why do you still resist?”

“This won’t last,” Loki glared. “My brother will notice I am not home. He will find me. And he’ll do much more than just break your jaw this time around.”

The elf smothered a laugh. He slammed his fist into Loki’s face, bouncing the boy’s skull off the rock wall. Buzzing danced through his ears, blood forming in his vision. The elf took his hand, wrapping it around the back of Loki’s head, pulling his hair to force the boy to look up. “It was my brother, that your bull of one murdered. Your brother killed mine, and I plan on dropping your cold broken body at his feet in return, little prince.”

“So you know who I am.”

“That I do. I will admit, finding myself at the opposition of Prince Thor of Asgard was daunting at first.”

“And that’s why you took me.” Loki snickered, narrowing his gaze into a slated emerald glare. “You weren’t a match for him the first time. And you’re too frightened to try again.”

The elf snarled, once more slamming his fist into Loki’s face. He felt the bone of his cheek break. His vision was blurring once more. The elf took his dagger from its place at his hip, and impaled it once into Loki’s leg. Fire burned through him as the steel was ripped from his body. The elf just sighed, running his hand against Loki’s lower lip. “You know, you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you this?”

oooo

Ripples continued to dance across the pool of water as Frigga moved her hands above it. Shivers of magic danced from her fingers as she pushed it into the water. Her son’s face played across her mind as she searched for it. Her magic licked through her skin, calling out for the one so alike hers. Her youngest might not be hers by blood, but this was a connection they had. The magic which coursed through her blood was a gift that that the little blue baby shared. And she would find him using that. She would bring her son home.

There was a knock on the door. Frigga’s concentration broke, the water going still under her touch. She sighed, looking at to the intruder. Her eldest stood there, shoulder’s slumped in a manner of defeat she wasn’t used to seeing on him. “Any leads?”

Thor entered the study, leveling his mother with a tight frown. “No. You haven’t found him?”

“I have not.” Frigga ran her hand over the surface of the water once more, setting the ripples bounding through it. “I’ve picked up the faintest trails of his magic, but I cannot find a location. Someone or something is intentionally blocking him from me.”

“How do you know this?”

“There’s another source of magic laced with his. Elven.”

“So he’s still on Alfheim, then. I’ve gotten permission from father to return there tonight. Sif thinks the elf's we had a fight with that first night are involved. That they took Loki as revenge for….” 

Frigga dropped her hand into the bowl of water. “Tell me what happened that night, Thor. The whole story.”

Thor dropped onto a sofa, refusing to look his mother in the eye. “We arrived at some bar, and an elf had his gaze set on Sif. He attempted to court her, and she denied his attempts. The elf got upset. He insulted Sif, and she handled him just fine. Then the elf leveled his attention onto the rest of us. Implied that we were weak for needing to drag a women around to protect us. Loki tried to calm the situation, offered counsel that we should let it be. Elf said that to run would be to show my cowardice. That I was no man to have handed my balls to a woman and my effeminate little brother to protect me.”

Thor ran a hand through his hair. “I was angered by the insult and I attacked the elf. He had others with him. A dozen who came to his aid. It was easy work for us to deal with them. They were hunters, not real fighters… I hit one, sending him across the room. He crashed his head against a fire place and did not rise after.”

Frigga stood, crossing the room. She sat beside him on the sofa, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Thor.” 

He rose, crossing the room. Hands were clinched in tight fists as he leveled her with a tight frown. “You were right. Loki was my responsibility. Mine to protect. I put him in a situation he should not have been in, I put him in danger and I provoked him later that night. He didn’t wish to share in our celebration and I further insulted him. And when he walked out… I should have stopped him. I should have made sure he got home safe. I never should have taken my eye off him. I’m sorry, mother.”

Frigga rose, smoothing out her dress. “You made a mistake. You will make plenty more mistakes after this. We will find your brother. We will bring him home. I promise you this.”

The water in the bowl began to ripple, green mist moving across the top.

oooo

Blood dripped down the sides of Loki’s lips. He had to admit, cutting his tongue from his mouth was truly a cruel move. He hadn’t been able to vocalize his protests about his torment, and it was getting to him. He had mumbled several curses about his captures, and they had merely laughed as his inability. His torso burned with each stunted inhale he took. The bone sticking through his skin had so much dried blood clotted around it that Loki wondered how he hadn’t bleed out yet. Having his arms chained above his head for so long had drained all the feeling so at least those broken bones felt numb. The runes still burned with each push against them.

He was hurting. Everything was hurting and he was growing tired of it. It had been days now and he could not continue to just sit around and wait. The runes glowed bright against the darkness, binding his magic and blinding him from Heimdall’s sight. He’d been tracing their patterns with his gaze, making out each rune and separating them. He wasn’t trained in such advanced Elven magic, he at least knew the basics.

And he knew the rune when he saw it. It shown bright, a simple spiral with an under curled edge carved just below his wrist. It was an easy enough spell and one he’d studied well.

The walls of the cell were made of ragged stone. It was carved from a cave wall it seemed, and comfort hadn’t been a priority judging from the roughness of the stone. Shifting from his place on the floor, Loki turned his wrist, placing the mark against the jagged stone. He slide his arm up, grimacing at the pain from moving his broken shoulder. His wrist found a particulate rough spot on the wall, were the jagged stone jutted out. He dropped his shoulder, slicing his wrist across the jagged stone. His shoulder burned from the sudden jerking. A scream tickled his ghost of a tongue. The rune still glowed. Rising his arm again, he placed his wrist along that slicing ledge. With a solid breath, he ripped his wrist against the stone, cutting through skin and dripping blood down his arm.

The shielding rune flickered as the skin around it tore. It still glowed. Loki raised his wrist, placing it along that stone one more time.

oooo

It was easy work to clear the Elven forces. There were only a dozen of them, armed with hunting bows and spears and it was easy work to deal with them. Thor found the ring leader as the Warriors dealt with the others. He had stood over Loki’s bleeding and still form, a wicked smirk over his lips. The elf’s hand had lit to life with magic, and a word of hate writing itself across his lips. There hadn’t been a moment for him to engage.

Thor sent the hammer soaring, smashing into the elf chest. He flew back, hitting the wall with a sickening snap, before landing flat against the cold ground. Thor crossed the room, stepping over the still corpse, to kneel beside his brother. He placed his hand on Loki’s cheek, rising it slowly to make out his face in the half darkness.

Loki’s face was more bruise than skin. There were shadows of blacken skin and crusted blood, one of his eyes swollen shut and his lower lip was visibly torn. There were glowing runes carved into his skin, and Thor hadn’t the slightest idea what they were of. He took the cuffs holding his brother’s wrists, and pulled them from the wall. It was when he picked up Loki, cradling his brother against his chest, did he take note of the bone parting through his leg. He absentmindedly pried Mjonir from the shattered chest cavity of the fallen elf, before carrying his unconscious brother from the bloodied room. 

Asgard was in a frenzy when the Bi Frost turned to life and brought them home. Mother and Father awaited them in the atrium. The air stilled when Mother took one look at her youngest. She flew forward in a frenzy of skirts, cradling his broken face within her hands. There were hot tears cascading from her eyes as she began directing those around.

Loki was taken from his arms to be placed on a stretcher. Mother went with them, already calling for a servant to run ahead and inform Eir of these events. Thor stood there in the observatory, watching the group fade into the light of the city. The Warrior Three and Sif each placed a hand on his arm, before they too began a sullen march back towards the city. Thor stood there; Heimdall continued facing the world, and Father just looked tired. 

“You did well,” Father placed a hand on Thor’s shoulder. It was there a moment, before it slid off softly. Father motioned him to follow as they stepped onto the Bi Frost. The sounds of the world moving around them passed between father and son. Gungir’s golden staff hit against the shimmering rainbow under their feet in resounding echoes. “Was there any difficulty in retrieving him?”

“No,” Thor answered shortly. “The elfs put up a poor fight.” 

“Casualties?”

“Theirs.”

“Good.” Father’s gaze went hard. His wrinkled hand gripped his staff tightly, a vein popping under the skin. 

They reached the city; the glistening majesty of their world seeming dulled in the wake of the broken prince. Men and women leaned from their doorways, whispering to themselves as rumors began to pour from their throats. A group of children watched in dulled silence as All Father and son moved silently through the sullen city.

The infirmary was alive with action. Father had sent Thor along, himself leaving to meet with Counsel. There were Healers moving through the room in rapid motion. The scent of blood and salve mixed in the air under the crisp demands of both Eir and his mother. The two women stood on either side of Loki’s bed, fingers drenched in magic as they fought to restore the boy.

Mother looked up at the sound of the door closing. She motioned at Eir, before directing her gaze at him. “Thor, if you are going to be in here, you need to be out of the way.” 

There was a sharpness to her tone that was often reserved for when her boys created the upmost of trouble. She looked at him with a sharp glare, before going back to running her magic over his form. The glowing yellow runes faded one by one under her fingers, leaving darkened marks behind. Thor stepped to the side as a junior healer rushed forward with an arm full of bandages. 

They had to put his bones back in place. Thor was no stranger to injury, but there was something sickening of having to watch six people hold his little brother down, as the jutting leg bone was set back through the skin. The howl that passed through Loki’s lips was animal. It shook the room, shattering several glass veils and the two windows and collapsing the stone wall around the door. When the disarray subsided, Eir stepped forward, placing a hand along Loki’s jaw. With every intent of care she had in her wrinkles skin, she slowly opened the boy’s busted lips.

“Sweet Nords,” Eir raised a shaky gaze onto the All Mother, “they took his tongue.”

oooo 

Recovery was slow. For all the busting Thor gave his brother’s reliance on his magic, he was thankful for it now. Once the runes keeping him at bay were completely removed, his magic began to piece him back together. It was surface at first. Thor sat at his bedside night after night, watching the soft green glow knit wounds together under layers of bandages. His shoulders had set easily, and despite the crooked aftermath, his fingers would heal without fault. They had encased his broken leg in a rather large splint; so many bandages were wrapped around it there was no skin visible. 

Magic itched at his slit tongue. Already, it was beginning to grow back. Thor knew in no time it would heal, even stranger and sharper and his little brother would use it well to talk them out of and into many more fights to come. But for now, he was silent. 

A groan broke that two day silence. Thor started from his half slumber at the sound of his brother’s moan. He leaned forward in his chair, taking his brother’s hand in his owns. Loki’s eyes opened slowly, his lids heavy and still half closed.  
“Don’t talk.” Thor silenced him with a squeeze of his hand. “Eir said it’ll take some time before your tongue grows back. You can’t really talk until then. Um…. Nod if you understand.”

Loki was drifting out already. He moved his head down once, a grimace crossing over his still bruised face. Thor let go of his hand, almost afraid to touch his brother’s skin again. After a moment, the pain seemed to face as Loki trailed his dazed emerald gaze onto his brothers.

“Look Loki...” Thor dropped heavily into the chair, “I need to… I should…”

He felt an idiot unable to say such a basic thing. “Father said we aren’t to leave the palace for the next six months. That if either of us step foot outside the grounds, he’ll have both of us thrown into the dungeons. I don’t think he was joking on that matter. I guess its a good thing you aren’t walking for a few days still.”

The joke fell heavy from Thor’s lip. He looked over his brother’s broken form, before finding his face again. Loki’s face has always been sharp and boned, and the bruises only made those harsh lines even tighter. His focused emerald gaze was dulled, fading in and out under heavy eye lids. 

Thor leaned forwards again, taking his brother’s hand in his. He gaze a soft squeeze, far more careful than he’d ever been. “Loki… I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have let you go off on your own like that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have destroyed your book. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I’m sorry.”

Loki continued to stare at him. That unfocused gaze grew fuzzier. Thor continued, “I mess up. I’ve messed up a lot, I know. I’ll probably mess up again, we both know that. But I am sorry.”

Loki gaze his hand a squeeze back. His mouth opened to speak, only for a mumble to escape it. He grimaced at the sound. His heavy eyelids turned hard as they slid closed. Thor squeezed his hand again, finding no response. He watched the slow rise and fall of Loki’s chest as his breathes even out in slumber. 

Silence filled the infirmary as Thor just watched his little brother. There was no doubt that Loki would recover from this in the end. But that point wasn’t now. Now, was Thor having to watch his brother piece himself back together from Thor’s own mistakes.


End file.
